


every single night pray the sun will rise

by CC_Writes_Stuff



Series: badlands [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Childhood Friends, Claude von Riegan Needs a Hug, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Happy Ending, Hurt Claude von Riegan, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Minor Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Mutual Pining, My Unit | Byleth Has Emotions, Pining, Poisoning, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Protective Hilda Spellman, Stressed Claude von Riegan, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/CC_Writes_Stuff
Summary: Claude gets poisoned. Knowing who did it, Byleth goes to settle a score.-Written for Whumptober Day 22: Do These Tacos Taste Funny To You?
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: badlands [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923658
Comments: 3
Kudos: 74
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	every single night pray the sun will rise

Claude looked… horrible.

He was pale, and there was still blood on his lips, his breathing harsh and ragged, and sounds painful. It wasn’t the first time Hilda had been around death - during the war, she’s been responsible for a whole lot of it. But this was Claude they were talking about, their leader man, their tactician. One of the two people who had gotten them this far in the war, the person who had bonded the Deer together. And she had never seen him like this, bedridden and sick. He looked... weak. Vulnerable.

Hilda’s gaze drifts to Byleth. She’s sitting quietly on the stool next to the bed, face stony and blank. But in her eyes, she can see a tempest of storms raging around in them, the clench of her jaw. She’s still holding Claude’s hands. She wonders how Byleth is taking it, what she’s thinking. She knows if the roles were reversed, Claude would be freaking out.

“Do... do we know what happened to him?” Ignatz asked, breaking the silence in the room. His voice is taught, high, worried. Hilda can’t blame them - none of them have ever seen Claude like that. Like he could be picked apart by a Demonic Beast at any moment. And sure, Hilda had seen some of Claude’s bad sides in the five years when their Professor was gone, but... not like this. He looked vulnerable, a look she didn't like seeing on him, a look anyone rarely ever saw on him.

Leonie shakes her head. “We were supposed to be doing inventory logs together, but he never showed. When I went to check on him, I found him like that.”

“What could’ve happened?” Marianne asks, shaking her head. She’s trembling, shaking like a lead, and Hilda scoots over on the bed, putting her arms around the bluenette. She sniffs, burying herself in Hilda’s shoulder. “What... what could’ve happened to Claude to... to make him like this? Some kind of spell?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Lysithea says, shaking her head. She’s trying to put on a brave face, but Hilda can sense the fear behind it, the worry. For as much as she and Claude didn’t get along, Hilda knows they care for each other a lot more than they let on.

“Why do you think that?” Raphael asks, frowning. For once, he’s not eating.

“Spells... don’t act like this,” Lysithea says, waving her hand. “I’ve never heard of a spell that gives people these conditions - coughing, breath raspy, hard to breathe in the first place, a fever, vomiting, blood from his nose. Besides, the effects of most spells fade after a day, at the most.”

“And with black and dark magic, there are often signs of it,” Lorenz said with a nod, but there’s none of his usual pompousness and flair in his voice. “If what Professor Manuela said was true, then there were no such injuries on his body. Besides, I’d like to think Claude would be smart enough to report something like that to someone.”

“Well, you know how Claude is,” Lysithea huffed, shaking her head. “He keeps working himself to the bone, but won’t bother to open up to anyone but Marianne, Hilda, or the Professor.”

“Okay, well, has anyone noticed anything off about him recently?” Leonie asked, looking around the room. On one hand, she was spinning a dagger around. “I was doing archery practice with him earlier today, and his aim was a lot more off than usual.”

“He did seem more tired when me and Raphael had lunch with him,” Ignatz said, adjusting his glass and frowning at Claude. “He, uh... he kept zoning out when he talked, and barely ate his food, complaining that it wasn't tasting right. He also retired early because of a headache.”

“Okay, okay, so if it isn’t a spell that’s making him this way... what happened?” Hilda asked, looking around the room. “There has to be a reason for whatever the hell this is making Claude like this.” She gestured wildly to the unconscious Claude.

“Professor, do you have any ideas?” Lorenz asked, and everyone’s gaze snapped to Byleth. She still hadn’t looked up from Claude, rubbing circles into his hand. It would be cute if the situation wasn’t what it was.

“I... I don’t know.” She sounded lost, and it made Hilda’s heart twist. Their Professor never sounded like this.

“Well, I think I do,” a new voice said. Hilda looked to the right to see Manuela walking into the room, a somber look on her face.

“You... you do?” Marianne asked, still half-hiding in Hilda’s arms, her face red and splotchy with tears. Hilda wanted so bad to wipe the tears away.

“Well? What is it?” Leonie asked, standing up, fire burning in her eyes

“If I’m correct, the source of von Reigan’s ailment is Hell’s Dewberry.”

Confused silence spread between the room. If Hilda were less observant, she would’ve missed the way Byleth tensed. She raised a brow but didn’t comment on it, too busy trying to determine what the hell that was. She had never heard of that before.

Lorenz was the first to speak.

“Hell’s Dewberry,” He said slowly, testing it out on his lips. “What, pray tell, is that? I’ve never heard of such a thing before.”

“It, uh… it doesn’t sound pleasant,” Raphael frowned. “Dewberry, sure, but Hell’s Dewberry?”

“What is that?” Lysithea asked, frowning. Manuela let out a sigh, shaking her head.

“To be honest, I haven’t the faintest clue myself. I had to scour through three books to find something that resembles what is ailing von Reigan,” Manuela told them, holding up a leather-bound book that’s under her arm. Her gaze sharpened. “I can, however, confirm without a doubt its poison. And a highly lethal one at that.”

Chills went down Hilda’s spine. “ _Poison?_ Someone _poisoned_ Claude?”

“It appears so,” Lorenz said, voice grave, and his eyes darted towards Claude.

“Who?” Marianne asked, shaking her head. She was still shaking, so Hilda started rubbing circles into her back.

“Someone from the Empire?” Leonie suggested, frowning. “Claude’s the head of the war. If Edelgard takes him out, we could start to fracture, more than we already have. He’s the whole reason the Alliance hasn’t been split into two so far, and with us preparing to march on Enbarr soon, well...”

“Or maybe it’s an inside job, someone from the Alliance trying to get rid of him,” Lysithea said, shaking her head and huffing. “He may have won over the Five Great Lords, but there are many minor nobles that have some kind of dislike of Claude, and we all know Count Gloucester has never liked him. It wouldn’t be the first time one lord had poisoned a Reigan to make a power grab.”

Lorenz’s jaw sets, but they all know his father and Claude don’t get along just because Lorenz and Claude do (on occasion). And they all know the rumors that the count killed the former heir.

Leonie huffs, twirling her dagger around in her hand. “Okay, so let’s say Claude was poisoned, Professor Manuela,” she asks the healer. “Do you know anything about it? About… about his chances of survival? Because I’ve never heard about this plant before.”

“Me either,” Lysithea, Ignatz, and Lorenz say at the same time. Hilda frowns, chills creeping up her spine. If the two smartest people and the two most nature-oriented people here don’t know what this poison is, then what is it? A specialty from the Kingdom or the Empire. But, no - Manuela would probably know something, given her medicinal knowledge.

So that’s why Hilda’s surprised when the Professor speaks.

“Most people haven’t,” she said suddenly, voice taught. “It’s a rare poison from a rare flower, found mostly in Almyra and Brigid. Hard to find the flower in the wild, and hard to extract and refine the poison into something to use. It takes a lot of time, skill, and resources to make.”

Hilda blinked. “You’re… weirdly knowledgeable in that, Professor,” she said, before grimacing, hearing the words in her own ears. It sounded like an accusation, but she really hadn’t intended it that way-

“Did you guys really think I’ve been confined to Fódlan as a mercenary?” Byleth asked, cutting off Hilda’s musings as she looked up to meet their gazes. “I’ve been to Brigid, Sreng, and Almyra.” Her gaze dropped back down to Claude again, her grip on his hand whitening. “I… I knew someone who got poisoned with this.”

Byleth didn’t need to elaborate - Hilda could hear clearly enough from the tone, the twinge of sadness, that the person didn’t make it. She shivered.

“Well, at least that narrows down suspects,” Ignatz mused. “This seems to be uncommon, perhaps even rare knowledge. I mean, how many of us know anything about Almyra - other than what we’ve heard ourselves.” He asked, fixing a look at Hilda, who raised her hands in defense.

“And that means whoever did poison him must have extensive knowledge of poisons,” Lysithea hummed, frowning. “And some good connections, to be able to get such a sophisticated and rare poison all the way from Almyra.”

Leonie frowned, tapping her finger on her chin. “But I seriously doubt that if anyone _here,_ who is pratically right next to the country, knows anything about Almyran poisons, then neither does anyone in the Empire. I mean, the Alliance as a whole barely has any contact with Almyra. Why would someone in the Empire? The only people I can even begin to think of are Hubert and Linhardt. And even then, Linhardt cares more about sleeping and Crests than he does poison, and I’m not sure how Hubert would have access to Claude, unless he planted it with a spy.”

“But we’re pretty sure we cleared out all the spies after Aliell, right?” Raphael asked, frowning. “Claude and the Professor got rid of them all.”

“Well, this is a war,” Ignatz said, shaking his head. “Spies come and go all the time.”

“Yes. I know for a fact that Claude still has at least two spies that he planted in the Empire three years ago, and they’re still there,” Hilda said. “Just because we got rid of one doesn’t mean we got rid of all of them. It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

“Even so, the obscure knowledge of his poison should help narrow down suspects, just like Ignatz said,” Lysithea hummed.

A screech of the chair, and Hilda looked up to see Byleth standing up, shoulders tense and eyes angry.

“Professor? Whatcha doing?” She asked the mint-haired woman.

Byleth turned on her hair, drawing out the dagger at her waist with a single, smooth motion, and the knife gleamed dangerously in the sunlight.

“I’m going to find the son of a bitch who did this,” She said, before storming out of the door without another word.

* * *

As soon as Byleth heard the name of the poison, deep down, she knew who it was. After all, Byleth knew of only a few select people who knew what Hell’s Dewberry was, and fewer knew how to make it.

She just… she just didn’t understand how he found them. Found Claude. He was careful, it seemed like - he hadn’t let anyone know of his Almyran heritage, least of all _her_ , the same person who he (almost?) died for. And even then, Claude - Claude hadn’t confirmed it out loud, that he was Khalid.

It was odd to think about - that was why Byleth hadn’t brought it up yet, even after _(she thinks)_ realizing it after Merceus. Claude hadn’t, yet, so Byleth would not force him too. She wasn’t sure if she _wanted_ to, and hadn’t the courage to actually ask him. After all, how does one explain that she thought Khalid was dead for over a decade when he was actually right there? She wondered what Sothis would think of that.

So, an unspoken secret it was, between them.

But now, it seemed it needed to be brought to some sort of attention, with Claude’s poisoning. Maybe not with the others, but probably Byleth. After all, as far as she knew, Maalik was the only person who could make such a complicated poison, aside from possibly Claude. Byleth herself knew of it - how could she not, when Karim had died from it - but she did not know how to make it.

She did not know of the antidote, either, although she knew there was one. But most of her knowledge and memories from that year in Almyra were still muted and fuzzy, and she could not remember what the ingredients for it were. Was there even an antidote for it, or was it something Maalik had made up, made to give them false hope at the time? Byleth didn’t know that, either. What she did know was that Claude was poisoned, and Byleth knew who it was. She just had to find him. Heat pulses in her chest at that.

Luckily for her, she was blessed with the skills of tracking.

* * *

Maalik hadn’t changed.

The disgraced prince was still as boisterous as ever, laughing with some brawler or other at the bar of the tavern in Abyss. Like he hadn’t just poisoned his half-brother.

Byleth took another sip of her drink, trying to hear the man’s conversation over the dim chatter of the bar. She was dressed in simple clothes today, black as night, with a shawl over her head to hide her hair from anyone who might recognize her as the acting Archbishop, and, by extension, her position as Claude von Reigan’s general. The Sword of the Creator had also been replaced by a simple silver sword, as well, to keep suspicions and talk away from her.

By now, most of Garreg Mach had heard about Claude’s poisoning, despite the Deer’s attempt to keep it quiet. Byleth figured Maalik was smart enough to know someone would be looking for him, and stay away from anyone with a connection to Claude.

Or, at least, Byleth thought he was. Yet, there he was, laughing and having a drink in a shitty bar in Abyss, in the same general area where he poisoned Duke Reigan. He must be confident, she mused, watching him down another drink like it was his last day on earth.

Unbeknownst to him, it would be.

She can feel the heat swirling around in a ball in her chest, twitching and dancing at the edge of her fingertips.

Like a hunter waiting for their prey, Byleth waits, watching Maalik, and never looking away. She thinks she sees Yuri, at some point, a flash of purple in the dark, dim lights of the crowd, but she isn’t sure. Her focus is entirely on Maalik, and keeping the heat of her crest under wraps, despite the urge to let it burst forth from her fingertips like a phoenix, as it did all those years ago.

Finally, after what seems like ages, he stands, hands the bartender some money, and walks out. Byleth downs the rest of her own drink, sets her own money on the table and stands up.

Byleth shadows him as he exits the bar into the grimy hallways of Abyss, and she prays he doesn’t go right. He doesn’t, instead heading to the left, and Byleth smiles to herself. She’s been following Yuri and the Wolves down these tunnels enough to know the general pathways, and what tunnels lead to where, and which are dead ends. So long as he doesn’t go by Abysskeeper, Byleth can follow him.

Follow she does, down the hallway, through the tunnels, and Byleth has a feeling he’s heading for the East passageway, that connects to the Oak Leaf bar down in town. Byleth keeps her footsteps silent as she follows, not wanting to alert the disgraced prince. The tunnels are chilly, but the fire in her chest keeps her warm, like it always does, swirling and twitching under her skin like a living thing trapped in a cage, trying to break free.

_Tmp, tmp, tmp._

She wondered if this was how Maalik felt, sneaking through the walls of the Almyran palace.

Ten minutes later, Maalik pauses in the hallway and looks around. Byleth stills, keeping out of sight via the curved in the tunnel.

“Whoever’s followin’ me, come out, now!” He booms. A rat at her feet scurries away at the sudden, booming noise that bounces off the grey, damp stone, chittering.

Byleth draws the sword at her hip out and steps around into view. Her foot lands into a puddle, splashing water.

Maalik turns, and locks eyes, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyes narrow, and in the flickering torchlight, Byleth can see the recognition passing through them. The heat wells up in her chest, burning a mark against her skin, her bones, before dying back down, wrapping around her like a towel.

“Byleth Eisner,” He growls, voice thick, rumbling.

“Traitor.”

“Been a long time.”

“Not long enough.” Not long enough for him to forget about Claude, for him to stay away. “One murder wasn’t enough for you? Even though Claude is hundreds of miles away from home?”

“The ‘prince’ needs to die,” Maalik says casually, putting air quotes around the word prince. “I don’t care if he’s not in Almyra, he’ll no longer taint the throne with his blood anymore. Who does he think he is, being the leader of two different countries?”

Byleth narrows her eyes, fingertips pulsing with warmth. “The only blood that’s tainting the throne is you. And I know Claude is trying to make things better, on both sides of the border.”

Maalik laughs, just as dangerous and booming as all those years ago. “It doesn’t matter what you know - he’ll be dead by morning. The little bastard got me banished from my rightful place on the throne, as heir, from the country I dedicated my life to. The very least I can do is make sure Khalid never steps foot in Almyran territory again.”

“You underestimate the healers in our group, then,” she says, tilting her head. The warmth of her Crest burns in her gut, in her chest, again, beating when her heart does not. “As well as their determination to keep Claude alive. Unlike in Almyra, people care for him here. I care for him. And he cares for us too much to die.”

Maalik’s fingers drum on the hilt of his sword, grinning deviously, too sharp, with too many teeth and hard edges. “It was that care that almost got himself killed last time. But the little bastard was too stubborn to die, just like you.”

Byleth raises a brow. “Is that a challenge?”

A snort. “You always did speak more through your swords than your words, Eisner.” He spat the name out like it was rotten on his tongue. But then he grins, crooked and wrong, and a part of Byleth is glad Claude looks almost nothing like him. Maybe a little in the jaw, but everything else is different. “Fine, then. A duel, to the death.”

She grins, and feels the fire spreading out from her core, racing and dancing through her veins, and her crest stone seems to ‘pulse’ in response. In her twenty-some years of age, Byleth has rarely ever lost a duel or a battle. Her skills far outnumber most people’s, and she has the advantage of Divine Pulse.

* * *

In the end, the Ashen Demon adds another body to her kill count, and leaves covered in blood that is not her own, Maalik on the ground, eyes glassy and throat slit.

* * *

Claude pulls through the night, waking up in the early hours of dawn due to a coughing fit. The other Deer are still asleep or on night patrol, the Monastery’s security heightened due to his poisoning. Byleth is at his side when he wakes.

“Teach?” He croaks out, voice raspy as unfocused green eyes land on hers. Byleth nods, already reaching for the glass of water on the table next to the infirmary bed.

“The one and only,” She responds, looking him over. “How are you feeling?”

Claude groans, weakly throwing an arm over his face. “Li… like shit,” he says. If Byleth is being honest, he doesn’t look much better, skin paler than usual, sweat still clinging to his forehead, and his breathing is still hoarse and ragged. “How… how long wa’ I out?”

“A day and a half or so,” Byleth responds, and she hands him the glass. Claude chooses that moment to go into another coughing fit, ironically, shooting up as he hacks and coughs himself hoarse. She sets a hand on his back, and hands him the glass when he’s done. Claude nearly drains the whole thing.

“You might want to keep resting,” Byleth tells him as he flops back down onto the bed. “Manuela and Linhardt managed to make an antidote, but it’s still probably affecting you.”

Claude lets out a wheezing breath, saying something in Almyran that Byleth can’t fully make out, her knowledge rusty. The only thing she can glean is bastard, lying, Maalik, and have, but she can take a guess.

“Get some rest, Claude,” Byleth says again, resting her hand on his forehead. Claude nods, before one hand comes up and weakly grasps hers. He peels his eyes open and looks at her, expression one of the most vulnerable ones she’s ever seen from him.

“Stay with me?” He asks, voice cracking. Byleth nods, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Of course,” she says, nodding. A weak smile crosses his face, and his eyes flutter shut.

* * *

A few days pass, and when Byleth isn’t training or making plans to attack Enbarr, she’s with Claude, doing her best to ease any and all worries that he has. He’s tense and on-edge afterward, his conversations with anyone but the Deer short and to the point. It makes Byleth’s chest twist, but there’s nothing she can do except watch over him.

Finally, he asks her the question she’s been waiting to hear.

“So, how long have you known, Teach?” Claude queries one night, lips pulled back in something resembling a smile. He’s sitting up in a bed, looking over some of the papers and documents Lorenz brought over earlier that evening. Byleth is sitting next to him, reading through them with him.

“Since just after Grondor, I think,” she replied. “At the Goddess tower. I just... got the sense.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Byleth shrugged. “I mean... I wasn’t sure, and you’re rather tight-lipped about the past, and I didn’t want to push. I figured that... if it was true, you’d tell me eventually, and if not, then... well, I was wrong and it wasn’t my problem anymore.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Well, you can think Maalik for that,” he said, a tinge of bitterness in his voice. “And everyone else who tried to take my life.” A pause. Then, hesitantly, he asks, “Have you found him yet? Because I’m pretty sure-“

“He’s dead,” Byleth said. “I made sure of it. Your parents won’t mind, right?”

Claude smiles. There’s no humor or charm to it. “Nah. He was pretty much banished from the palace for killing Karim, even if my parents never found him afterward. But I really don’t think they’ll mind.”

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, and neither did Karim.” Byleth says to him, looking up at him and pressing a hand to his forehead, gesturing to him with her other hand. “You don’t deserve _this_.”

The smile grew a bit bigger, some of the brittleness and fakeness leaving. It’s more real, and it makes her stomach flutter. “Thanks, Teach.”

“What about you?” She asked, tilting her head. “How long have you known?”

She saw Claude’s Adam’s Apple bob, and he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away. “A... a while.” A beat of silence. Then, “Not too long after... after we first met. You’re pretty memorable, Teach, especially after saving my life twice.”

“Well, then why didn’t _you_ say anything?”

Claude shrugged, hand moving to run through his hair. “You’ve seen why. The Almyrans don’t like the Fódlani, and the Fódlani don’t like the Almyrans. I’m the worst of both worlds. The Almyrans hated me, and it didn’t take me long to realize it was the same on the other side of the border. Took me even less time to start hiding it. Made a promise to myself to keep it hidden for as long as I possibly could, long before I ran into you again. And when I did, well... puberty had been kind to me, and I wasn’t inclined to bring it up, and if you did realize, you never did. With my position, I wasn’t going to bring it up. Too dangerous.”

Byleth nodded, wringing her hands together and looking down at the nap. “Were you ever going to bring it up?”

“Eventually - one day. Just had to find the right time,” Claude said. “Sometime after the war. Once the barriers were broken down a bit more, and people were more like you.”

“Like me?”

Another shrug. “Accepting.” He smiled at her. “I’m glad I found someone like you, my friend. So, um... I’d appreciate it if you kept that fact from the others, just... just for now.”

Byleth smiled. “What’s one more secret?”

Claude grinned, chuckling, before coughing, doubling over, and pressing his fist to his mouth. It didn’t sound any better than it had earlier, rattling his bones, and Byleth frowned, putting a hand on his back.

“Claude-?”

“It’s fine, Byleth,” he wheezed once he stopped, hitting his chest with his fist. “The coughing’s going to last for a while. Side effect - nothing I can do against it. Just gotta wait for it to pass. I did a lot more research on Hell’s Dewberry after... well, you know.” He shuddered.

That pang echoed through the hollow of Byleth’s chest again, and she tightened her grip on the fabric of his shirt, looking at her lap again. “I’m sorry. I... I wish I could’ve done more. To... to help Karim.”

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault, Teach,” Claude said, voice gentle. It didn’t ease Byleth’s chest pains any less, though.

“I know, but...” she shook her head. “He was your brother. Family. And you... you almost died to protect me - I thought you had. Karim still died.”

A beat of silence, then, “Teach.” She felt something warm on her cheek, and her head was turned so she was looking at Claude, into his viridian green eyes. Now, that she looks at him better, she can see Khalid in him, much more than she used to. She wondered what Karim would look like, how Layla looks. He certainly aged well.

Claude speaks, snapping her out of her reprise. His hand is warm and solid on her face, making her pulse flutter.

“Teach, what happened with Maalik, with Karim, none of that was your fault. You don’t need to blame yourself for that, and I don’t blame you for what happened to him,” he told her, slowly, as if making sure she heard each word. “You did your best, I know that, but you were outnumbered and outclassed. And you did more than anyone I knew back then would. I’ll be forever grateful for saving my life, over and over again.”

He leaned forward, then, pressing a hesitant, gentle kiss to her forehead, making Byleth shiver, drowning out the thoughts of But what about all the times you died? That entered her mind.

“So... thank you for that, Byleth.”

“Claude, I...” she started, but was unable to find any words. “You’re welcome.”

Claude pulled back, a soft smile on his face, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “How about this? After the war’s over, I’ll take you back home. We can visit Karim’s grave. Layla would like to see you again, too, I think.”

Byleth nodded, leaning into Claude’s touch. “I’d like that.” She paused, thinking it over for a moment, then hesitantly added, “Khalid.”

It tasted like honey on her tongue, but Claude stilled, eyes widening, mouth slightly agape. A beat of silence, then two, three. Byleth gulped. Looked down at her hands.

“I... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ she floundered for her words. “I didn’t mean to make you un...uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s... it’s fine,” Claud said, and Byleth looked up as he shook his head. “I just - I was just caught a little... off-guard.” His free hand rubbed the back of his neck. “I... no one’s called me that in years. It’s just... jarring.”

“Oh.” Byleth frowned. “Do... do you not want me to?”

“No, I… I do, it’s just… Can you only do it when we’re alone?” He asked, voice dropping conspiratorially. “As I said, I… I want to keep this secret for… for right now.”

Byleth smiled. “Only if you call me Byleth.”

She could’ve sworn she saw Claude’s cheeks darken a shade or two, but he nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I can do that, Byleth.”

**Author's Note:**

> [I Have a Tumblr!](https://ccwritesstuff.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And this series is done! I'm not really that happy with it, I'm not going to lie, but I do hope you enjoyed anyways!


End file.
